Waiting, Watching, Wishing
by algie888
Summary: When you wish upon a star, so I know where you are. Flying in the skies above, lead me to the ones who love me...  All he ever wanted was to fly. Was that so bad?


The feeling of flight could easily be compared to the feeling of relief. All the weight, all your baggage, all your fears have suddenly been cast away, off your shoulders and leaves you free. Free to soar, as untamed as the wind that rustles the dying Autumn leaves, a ribbon of a river dancing through a mountain.

Richard had always wanted to fly. He had always wanted to be able to dance on the breeze like a falling leaf, or swoop like a hawk over the deserts. His acrobatic skills always had him mid air, but it wasn't the same. Jumping and ropes could only get you so far, and for Richard, that just wasn't good enough.

When Richard had been a young boy, he would desperately watch the news on the minuscule television set in his parents' tiny trailer, just to catch a glimpse of Superman flying through through clouds. He would wish on the second star to the right every evening, his entire being dedicated to the hope that Tinkerbell would descend to grant his wish with faith, trust and a dash of pixie dust.

He wished on every seed helicopter, every first bite of a mince pie at Christmas, and on every evening star. He prayed by his bed, he scrawled it on his Christmas lists, he blew out all the seeds on a dandelion with a single breath. And his parent's wished with him.

Dad yelled for him if ever he saw a shooting star. Mom handed him extra money at the fountains. They taught him new ways to make wishes, like finding dew on a morning glory, ladybirds sitting on his hand, the eleventh minute of an eleventh hour, or an eyelash landing on his thumb.

**When You Wish Upon A Star**

Dick was lying on his stomach in a meadow, tugging at a daisy.

"I will fly, I will fly not. I will fly, I will fly not." He recited, plucking the white petals out and  
>scattering them across his lap. His mother about fifty paces to his right, picking blackberries from a bush. Dick's fingers and mouth were already stained from when he'd stolen a bushel from his mother's basket. His dad was next to him, in a light doze.<p>

A thought struck Dick. If there were more ways to wish, then were there more wishes? What if he wished in more way than one? Or at the same time?

Richard's face lit up at the amazing possibilities. He rolled over, shaking his dad's shoulder.

"Huh? What is it, Dick?" John Grayson mumbled, his voice cracking with sleep.

"Dad, are there other ways to wish?" Dick asked, colouring slightly as his dad mumbled something about 'you shouldn't wake up people'.

"Yeah, sure there are." He mumbled. There was no point in going back to sleep now. Dick would just keep coming at this.

"Like what!"

His dad chuckled as Richard pounced on him in pure enthusiasm. "Well, when I was a kid I'd wish on pins."

"Pins?" Dick asked, cocking his head to the side like a bird. "Why pins? How are _pins _magical?"

John Grayson shrugged, "I don't know. But, there was a rhyme when I was a boy: '_Find a pin and pick it up, then you know you'd have good luck. Find a pin and let it lay, bad luck have you all the day_'."

Dick nodded, repeating the rhyme so he could memorise it.

"We would also count magpies, and sometimes even the time was magical." His father continued.

Dick had already known about magpies. "The time?" He asked, confused.

"We'd wish on an eleven-eleven." His dad explained. "When a clock hits the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour, something magical will happen.

The wish was always the same, and they always wished together. Three souls, wishing as one.

**When You Wish Upon A Star**

It happened on a Autumn evening, the last Autumn evening before Winter began, to be exact. Dick had almost forgotten to wish that night.

"Mom? It's so colourful. It looks stupid. I look stupid."

It was the last Autumn show before they started the Christmas themed acts. As a gift, his mom had made him a new costume. It was so colourful that it hurt to look at it. He could just feel the punches that the bullies would be landing once they got a load of this. He didn't blame them. Richard looked like a court jester, and it wasn't funny. What was his mom's design? A robin? A robin has more brown (brown, what a sensible colour). Try bird of paradise, or colourblind  
>painter's wallpaper.<p>

"Dick? C'mere! You'll want to see this!" Called his mother from outside the trailer.

Dick hopped off of his seat, where he had been grumbling to himself about his costume. He trudged out of the trailer dragging his feet through the mud to over where his mother was.

Mary Grayson pointed at the sky to where a cloud was just moving sluggishly across the moon, almost blocking it.

"That star there? You see it? That's Mars, honey." His mother said.

The star was a pinprick against the swirls of dark blue, like a needle in a haystack. Mars was red, and it almost seemed to be flashing. Mother said that the stars were the kings and queens of this world. Not rulers by blood, but by what they did. They were the secret kings and queens. She said that Richard would be up there one day. Dad said that the stars were pretty ladies, winking at you. Mother slapped him for that, but she was laughing.

"Make a wish, baby." Mom said, adjusting his yellow collar and twisting his hair into spitcurls.

Dick screwed up his eyes, and wished. He wished to fly.

That was the last time he ever spoke to her.

**When You Wish Upon A Star**

His prayers turned punishments, his dreams tumbled and became nightmares. Why had he been so stupid? So selfish? Why had he wished for himself when he should have wished for more time? More days, more hugs, more family story nights when they'd huddle around a fire and speak Romani. More life. All those years- wasted! He should have been wishing for more time. It was as though everything he'd done- everything he thought he'd done- had gone to waste.

Flight was replaced by the sensation of falling. He didn't need to fly, not with his parents gone.

What he needed was to be able to continue. He didn't like living without them. He hated it. It was as though he were cheating them.

'Me!' He wanted to cry. 'Just take me!'

Now, every single penny that he found was donated to his parents. He would make a wish at every rainbow, at every white horse, even the first snow of Winter (Dick camped out on the orphanage balcony all night for that very first snowflake to land in his hair). He shouldn't have wasted all those wishes on flying. He should have wished for more memories with them, more time to love. He could never get those times back. His parents' had their own wishes. Mother wanted to go back to Romania, she wanted to see her family again and have another child: Lilli if it were a girl, Jonathan for a boy. Dad was waiting for his thirty fifth birthday, two years from now, when he'd get the circus from Pop Haley. Instead of wishing for wanted they wanted, they wished for what he wanted. They chose to place all their trust and faith in him, and he just wasted them all on stupid dreams about flying.

Dick was flying, twirling through the clouds like runaway spinning top. He was laughing. He was smiling. He was happy. The ground beneath him was like a patchwork quilt, mismatched and crazy. The wind whipped through his hair, leaving an odd, almost cherry-like smell. Dick burst through a cloud, his Flying Grayson costume sticking to his skin. He grabbed the trapeze, swinging effortlessly through the air. If the crowd had been wowed by a quadruple flip, with Dick's new flight powers, he could double that. What was the word for eight flips? Octduple?

"Ladies and gentlemen, The Boy Wonder!" Pop Haley cried, smiling.

The lions had wings, like the ones in Venice, and the girls on horses rode through the air, like the Pegasus of Greek myth. The clowns did cartwheels on clouds, the elephants performed ballet, and Dick was the star of the whole show.  
>The crowd went wild, clapping like there was nothing better on the planet. Of course, since he was performing, it was the best thing ever.<p>

Dick shot up, crying. The reoccurring nightmare. It wasn't terrifying, it wasn't horrifying, it wasn't filled with horror and gore. It was simply horrible. He was enjoying himself, without his parents. He was living his dream, whilst they perished without ever living their own dreams. That was what scared him. He didn't want to seem happy when they were dead. That would be wrong - that would be bad.

When Bruce found him, Dick was a wreck. A sobbing, messy, revenge-bent wreck. Dick took the oath of Robin: the oath to never yield, never turn, and to never kill.

Now, his wishes were for Zucco. He wanted the murderer dead. Instead of wishing down a well, he threw jinxes and curses down. He wished so hard that he would go pale and not eat. He wanted this more than flying, more than a good show. He made wishes on stars, but not Mars. Never Mars. Mars was the start of his misfortune, and he wouldn't allow anyone else to die because of it's trickster glow.

When the time came for Zucco, however, he couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

**When You Wish Upon A Star**

Robin sat, his cape fluttering by his heels like a silent companion. He stared at the clock, counting down the minutes. He kicked his heels idly. It was his first night, his first proper night as Robin. The sky was a deep blue, like an inkstain or a bruise, and Robin fought the urge to fidget. This was a sombre moment. One of the most important moments of his whole life.

The clock's hands moved. The eleventh minute of the eleventh hour. A magical moment when anything could happen.

Robin looked up at the sky, catching a glimpse of the moon and the stars. He made a wish.

"Watch me soar."


End file.
